“O! no! I don’t think so,” replied the Countess, who was already shivering with fright. Hannah lowered the blinds, closed the dark red silk curtains, locked the door and taking a seat on the sofa, invited Lady Loreley to sit beside her and hold her hand. “But don’t you require a table?” inquired the Countess. “Not that I know of,” replied Hannah. “No spirit that has ever come to me, has made any request of the sort! I don’t even know if they use tables over there. Don’t you see a bluish mist rising, close by the window curtains? Don’t be frightened if I go to sleep. I generally do, but you will be quite safe. Nothing can hurt you.” And as she was in the midst of talking thus, the Marchesa went under control and knew nothing more. When she awoke, she found the Countess of Loreley on her knees before her, sobbing as if her heart would break. “O! you dear Angel!” she cried, “I can never, _never_ thank you enough, for what you have done for me to-day. You are a wonder! a miracle! You must have been sent on earth by God, expressly to give comfort to broken-hearted mothers like myself!” “Why! have you seen anything?” demanded Hannah, rousing herself from her benumbing trance. “Seen anything!” echoed Lady Loreley, “I have seen that which has transformed me from a despairing woman to a happy one! I have seen my little Rose! You said you saw a bluish mist near the window. She walked straight out of that mist, and smiled at me! I spoke to her, and I thought her lips moved, but I could not hear any words, but she smiled at me--she stood there in her little white nightdress and bare feet, just as she was, dear darling! when I laid her in her coffin--and I know she lives, and I am happy once more--and O! dear Marchesa, what can I ever do to show my gratitude to you?” “Only be quiet,” said Hannah, holding up her hand, “and say nothing to anybody. Come and see me sometimes, Lady Loreley, and the more intimate you become with me, the more clearly you will see your little Rose, and the more confidently will she come back to you! Did no one else appear?” “No one whom I recognised! An old man’s face seemed hovering over your head, but it frightened me rather, and I did not look.” At those words “an old man’s face”, the Marchesa seemed to shiver slightly, and her next injunction was delivered rather hurriedly, “Now, mind, Countess, you must not breathe a word of what has occurred this afternoon to any one, or it will never happen again. The Baron would be so angry he would forbid my sitting with you at all! You can see that I say this for _your_ sake, more than for my own.” “O! yes, indeed,” said Lady Loreley, “but, Marchesa--I was going to ask you such a great favour! My eldest daughter, the Duchess of Penywern, lost her baby last year--such a splendid boy, heir, of course, to the title and estates, and she would give her life, I verily believe, to see him again.